


Fighting Your Mind

by Duffy



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Eating Disorder, body issues, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2554646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duffy/pseuds/Duffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lots of things have happened to Reid throughout the past few years. There is a lot one can endure but after some time, your mind might eventually cave in and try to deal with the situation a bit differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep all night and then I somehow wrote this. I also needed to get this off my mind as well. (The finale episode of season 9 is on tv here next week and I'm already so nervous because of Reid and what happened to him in the last episode.)
> 
> Second: As a non native speaker, my beta [Christina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/strykerxlr8) approved of this and gave it a go for publishing. Any mistakes left are happy to be pointed out to me.

Reid stares down at the small plate on the kitchen counter. The smell of fresh coffee is filling the air, a steaming mug right next to the plate. There's a slice of bread on it with a thin slice of cheese on it. He's been staring at it for a couple of minutes now.

He sips on his coffee. No milk, no sugar.

He continues to stare at the small breakfast he made. _It's okay to eat_ , he tells himself. _You need to._

He tries to convince himself that his words are true but a tiny voice back inside his head tells him _no, it's not._

He takes his mug again and has another sip of the hot liquid. It fills his stomach slowly and he knows it won't do anything to him. _It's okay._

He stares back down to the plate for a couple more seconds before he takes it as well, turns around and sits down on the kitchen table and the lonely chair in front of it. He sets plate and mug down and the voice in his head starts talking again.

_Eat. You need it. No. Don't do it. You can do without._ He knows he has a problem.

He slowly lifts his hands up to the plate and starts tearing the small bread and the cheese on top apart into tiny pieces. He crumbles them between his fingers, presses them together. Slowly, he brings one by one to his mouth, chews and swallows.

_It is good for you_ , he tells himself again, letting the coffee fill his mouth. _Don't be afraid._ But there's a weird feeling inside him, some kind of regret and nervousness. _It's not good for you._

He reaches for another piece of crumbled bread and cheese. He looks at it and eventually pushes it into his mouth. It's dry on his tongue. Too small to taste like something. He empties his coffee and allows himself a second mug this morning. _It's just water with some taste and caffeine._ It fills his stomach.

_That's enough_ , he tells himself again when the last piece of bread is eaten. _You don't need more until dinner._ He knows it's wrong, of course he'll need something to eat during the day. He gets up from the chair and places both mug and plate in the sink. His mind is running, counting what he ate, how much he ate.

_Not enough. Way too much._ His thoughts are screaming at each other.

He looks down again, places his hand in his belly and his hips. He can feel his bones. _You're too thin_ , he thinks. _No, it's the opposed. Just look at you._

He's shaking his head violently. He knows he's doing the wrong thing but he can't change it. He somehow slipped into this when he stopped taking Dilaudid. After all the bullets that had hit his body, after all the pain he had to endure. He just can't stop. Not again. The end of one was the beginning of the other.

He's still in his sleeping clothes and when he changes to go to work, he's pulling over a black button down shirt and a cardigan to cover up the small edges of his body.  _You look awful, all bones and skin_ , he tells himself when he spares himself a quick glance into the mirror on his way out.

No one notices. Morgan offers to go and grab a quick lunch when they have a bit of time between filling files and reports. He politely declines, says he just had a snack and doesn't need anything. It's a lie and he's hungry. He holds himself up with an endless supply of naked coffee and water. It keeps his stomach full.

He notices how his legs are shaking sometimes but he always finds something to hold on subtly to steady himself. He tries to hide it as best as possible in front of a group of profilers. Sometimes he can't concentrate. He just drinks another coffee then.

_Just a couple more hours_ , his thoughts go on, _and you managed a whole day without it_. He calls it _'it'_. Just like he used to with the drug before. _It's so wrong_ , he thinks at the same time but the guilty conscience for even thinking about eating, is overwhelming.

He doesn't notice the worried expression on Morgan's face when he leaves the office in the evening. His concentration is lacking again. _I'm fine_ , he had answered Morgan's question regarding his hollow cheeks and the even darker circles around his eyes.

Dinner is just an apple and some cups of plain tea. He goes to bed with a growling sound inside of him. But he feels satisfied without any regrets. He's used to it by now. Just a slice of bread and an apple. The coffee doesn't count.

_It's so stupid what you're doing._ He can't help it.

He falls asleep with a hand pressed to his belly. Just like every day.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think. Kudos/comments are highly appreciated.


End file.
